The A Team
by totherightoftheroad
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a prostitute filled with self-hatred. Blaine Anderson is a struggling Broadway star who thinks very lowly of prostitution. They come together in an unexpected situation. Will Kurt's self-hatred keep him from opening up? Will Blaine's prejudices keep him from letting in? Prostitute!Kurt AU.


Kurt's POV

He leaned back against that familiar brick wall of that familiar alleyway, the familiar burn of cigarette smoke settled deep in his lungs. It was the dead of winter, and the air around him was foggy and cold. He was not clad for winter; his outfit was suited for his profession, and he did not wear it with pride, confidence maybe, but not pride. He wore a pair of skin-tight golden jeans, a black v-neck shirt, and a golden tie, strung tightly around the skin of his neck.

He butted out his cigarette on the wall next to the other ash circles he had left from previous nights. His face was pale, pinker around his eyes and cheeks, and his body was rigid from the chill of the night.

The weather, however, was not his biggest concern. He had just come back from the job and felt used, dirty, as he always did when he finished up a day of work.

He stood up, a shower in mind, as he walked towards the back of the alleyway. That was where he lived, in an empty apartment. He traveled through the back door and snuck around into the apartment that he managed to live in secretly.

He dropped his soiled clothes at the door of the bathroom and began to run a hot shower, relaxing to the sound of the water pouring from the faucet. He ran his hand under the stream of water, feeling it go numb for a brief moment before it warmed up. Yes, a shower was long overdue.

He stepped into the small shower space, wincing at the sting of the hot water seeping into his cuts. He worried his lip between his teeth, ignoring the pain as he washed the grime from his hair and fluids from his body. A pool of dark liquid formed at the bottom of the shower around his feet as he felt the memories of the day wash away and down the drain, though they would never truly leave his mind.

He discovered four finger-shaped bruises along each of his hip bones, replacing the ones that had mostly healed from the last week of work, and long, red scratches filing down his chest and thighs. It had not been the worst of work days. The men that day were gentle for the most part, other than the one whose fingernails had made a maze of his body, and he didn't feel as dirty as he usually did. He felt just as used, but not as dirty. Perhaps it was because he had nearly twice as many clients as usual.

He longed for the day when this would not be his life. He longed for the day where he would be held in a man's arms instead of held down by them. He wanted to feel happy, feel loved, but he knew that day could never come. Why would anyone want him? After all, he was nothing but a filthy, used, whore.

It had been a long night.

Blaine's POV

Blaine made his way through downtown New York, attempting to find a taxi to take him home. He had been out drinking, and he was pretty sure his breath could start a fire.

He climbed into the backseat of a cab, whose driver was familiar to him, but he didn't have the time, or consciousness to care.

"Hi, Seb, t-take me'ome," he mumbled, leaning back against the window, his legs finding there way onto the driver's armrest.

"Blaine! Don't you look awful? How much have you had to drink?" Sebastian asked, eying the curly-haired man settling into the back of his cab.

"Dammit, Seb, I needa get'ome," Blaine's head was spinning, and if he didn't get moving soon, traces of the party he had been to would find their way into the back of Sebastian's taxi.

Sebastian grinned, laughing to himself, but he eventually started the car when Blaine slapped the back of his head.

"It seems you've made a life for yourself without me, huh?" Sebastian asked, that familiar cocky smirk present on his face.

"Yeah, you too," Blaine said sarcastically, looking over Sebastian.

"I'm actually dating someone, Blaine, you seem to have quite the love affair with alcohol though. That must be nice."

Their relationship had not ended well. Blaine had come home late one night from musical rehearsal at the Gershwin Theatre and found Sebastian and some prostitute together on the kitchen table. Needless to say their relationship ended quite soon after that discovery.

"Does this boyfr'nd of yours, h-happen to be a…be a whore?" Blaine asked, his bitterness evident by the tone in his voice.

"No, actually he's a singer, working his way up. Please tell me, what does your career look like? Oh yeah, that's right, you don't have one," Sebastian said, pulling onto the street where Blaine lived.

"Mmm Broadway," Blaine mumbled, rolling his eyes. Sure, since his breakup with Sebastian the number of bottles in his fridge went up and number of auditions on his schedule went down, but he was still very much present in the Broadway community.

Sebastian laughed to himself. If what he was seeing was any evidence of how Blaine's career was doing, he would guess that Blaine was wrecked.

"We're here, Blaine. Get out!" Sebastian said playfully, watching as Blaine stumbled out of the taxi uneasily.

"Have a good night, Blaine! Try not to throw up too much!" Sebastian called out the window as he drove away.

Blaine flipped him off, before fumbling with his keys, finally managing to get the door open to his house. He dragged his feet along the ground, balancing himself on the wall, before having a seat on the couch. Almost as soon as his head hit the couch cushion, he fell asleep.

It had been a long night.


End file.
